


no blinding light

by CalliaRittel



Series: Keep Me Waiting [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, I know it says Major Character Death just stay with me, Kinda, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalliaRittel/pseuds/CalliaRittel
Summary: Ten days after the worst day of his life, Oikawa Tooru stares blankly into the mirror propped up behind the vanity in the en suite bathroom, his eyes locked on a statistical anomaly standing over his shoulder.The anomaly smiles. ‘Hey, Tooru.’
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Keep Me Waiting [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201283
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	no blinding light

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I would never write major character death, but here we are, I guess.
> 
> Title is shamelessly stolen from I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab.

Ten days after the worst day of his life, Oikawa Tooru stares blankly into the mirror propped up behind the vanity in the en suite bathroom, his eyes locked on a statistical anomaly standing over his shoulder.

The anomaly smiles. ‘Hey, Tooru.’

Oikawa blinks and reaches blindly for the faucet, twisting the handle sharply. The still-running water chills, nearly painful to the touch, and he lets it run over his hand. His skin whitens as his fingers go numb. He blinks again and splashes the water over his face, scrubbing his eyes viciously. They’re red and swollen, but it doesn’t matter. They’re always swollen these days, and it’s not like there’s anyone around to impress anyway.

When he glances back up, the anomaly is gone, and if he was capable of registering his emotions, he would’ve noticed the tinge of disappointment trying to push its way through the heavy haze of detached grey.

He steps into a pair of jeans—an uncommon choice these days, but he _does_ still have a public persona to uphold—and pulls a sweater over his head before he shuffles back into the bedroom.

‘Are you going to ignore me all day?’

The anomaly is lounging on the fresh side of the bed, arms tucked behind its head and a faded UCI logo on its chest. It flashes a crooked, lazy grin at Oikawa, the beautiful one that always made his pulse skip in his chest.

‘You’re not real,’ Oikawa mumbles as he bends over the dresser drawer, digging out a pair of socks. ‘So I’m not ignoring anything.’

‘Hm,’ the anomaly hums, ‘I think we both know that’s not true, Tooru.’

Oikawa’s grip on the socks clenches and he whips around, vitriol climbing his throat and staining his tongue. How dare he? How _dare_ he?!

The bed is empty, the duvet cover completely crease-free.

The fight evaporates from his chest just like that. One big breath and it’s gone, slunk back down to wherever it hides when he’s not snapping at whoever is unlucky enough to try to _help_ him that day. He sinks down on the mattress, where his— _its_ , he corrects himself sharply—legs had been, sturdy and strong and crossed at the ankle. A week ago—ten days ago—he would have burst into tears. Now he just feels empty.

He glares at the socks in his fist, his gaze slipping off the dash of gold around his finger. He twists the ring, an automatic fidget he’d picked up years ago. The engraving on the inside is nearly worn away because of it, the initials and numbers damn near invisible.

A tanned hand lands on Oikawa’s, a matching ring decorating a matching finger. It’s the same one that he’d strung a chain through and hung around his neck ten days ago. If Oikawa could muster up the energy to look, he knows he’d find an identical engraving on the inside, though much better preserved.

Hajime’s always been the steady one.

‘You’re overthinking again, Tooru.’ Their rings collide, but where there should have been a metallic scrape, Oikawa hears only his shallow breathing.

‘Whatever. They said I’m going crazy anyway. Might as well add “nervous wreck” to the list.’

‘You’re not crazy, Tooru. You’re grieving.’ Haj— _the anomaly—_ pulls its hand back, threading its fingers together in its lap, cocking its head. ‘Remember what Dr. Perez said? The first stage of grief is—’

‘ _I’m not in denial!_ ’ Oikawa shouts, gripping the socks so tightly he can feel his nails digging into his palm through the thin fabric. ‘I _know_ you’re dead, Hajime! Okay? _Dios_ , I _know_.’ Hot tears spill down his face and he leans forward, his elbows balanced on his knees. He jams his thumbs into the space between his brows and sniffs.

Hajime always said he was an ugly crier.

‘Oh, so we’re _deep_ into stage two, huh?’

Oikawa laughs bitterly and shakes his head, still propped up by his thumbs. ‘I’m not talking to a hallucination. I’m not going through this again.’

‘Of course I’m not real, Tooru.’ Hajime laughs, and it sounds so much like the real thing that the cobbled-together pieces of Oikawa’s heart fracture again. ‘Did you know that amputees can still feel tingling or discomfort in the lost limb? It’s called phantom pain.’

Oikawa sniffs and leans back on the bed, his hands planting on the mattress behind him to support his weight. ‘Of course I know that. I’m the one that taught _you_ that,’ he mutters.

‘Yeah no shit.’ Hajime chuckles. ‘I’m a hallucination, remember? I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’ He flops onto his back on the bed, which should have bounced with the motion instead of staying deathly still. ‘My point is, maybe losing me is like losing a limb, you know? It hurts like hell, but it won’t kill you.’

Another fracture scores deeply into Oikawa’s heart, and he reaches up to grasp the fabric of the sweater that rests over it.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he croaks. ‘This won’t kill me? Fuck, Hajime, do you know what it’s like now? Waking up every morning and remembering that you’re gone? There’s a half-finished crossword in the kitchen that you left for later, except now it’s never going to _be_ later and I can’t even go in the kitchen without breaking down, so I order takeout every day. I tried getting groceries yesterday and couldn’t even make it outside because your jacket was hanging by the door and it smelled like you.’

He lets his arms slacken and he lays back on the bed as a sob leaps out of his throat. ‘This house is hell to live in now, Hajime. There’s so much of you here, and I can’t deal with it, but I can’t sell it because that would mean admitting you’re really gone.’ He turns onto his side, expecting to find an empty bed beside him, but Hajime’s cool green eyes blink back at him sadly.

‘We were supposed to grow old together here, Hajime,’ he whispers. ‘We were—’ he breaks off with another sob. ‘We were supposed to raise our _kids_ here.’

Hajime's hand brushes across his cheek and Oikawa’s heart slashes again, because he can’t _feel_ it—can’t feel the callouses he _knows_ should be there.

‘I know, Tooru.’

‘You _left_ me, Hajime.’

‘I know.’

‘I don’t know how to do this without you.’

‘Do what?’

Oikawa shrugs and waves a hand vaguely in the air. ‘ _This._ The house, the adoption , the _existing_ Hajime-less.’

Hajime frowns. ‘The adoption’s finalized; you’re just waiting for her to be actually born. The house won’t stay claustrophobic forever. And...’ Hajime’s eyes soften. ‘You’ll be okay without me. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, Tooru, but I _promise_ you’ll get through this. The Oikawa Tooru I fell in love with doesn’t give up.’ He grins and brushes Oikawa’s cheek again.

‘Remember when we lost to Karasuno in third year?’

Oikawa almost smiles at the memory. ‘You kissed me for the first time on the walk home.’

‘We cried in the gym that night, but you still got up early to watch the final the next day. You’re a fighter, Shittykawa. You kicked our ass in the fucking _Olympics_. You’re going to be a great dad, with or without me. You’re Oikawa fucking Tooru.’

Oikawa sniffles and nearly reaches a hand out to thread into his husband’s thick hair before thinking better of it and gripping the duvet instead. ‘You don’t know that,’ he mutters.

Hajime smiles softly and covers Oikawa’s hand with his, and Oikawa _swears_ he can almost feel the callouses scraping against his own. ‘Of course I do. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know, remember?’

Oikawa’s heart shatters.

‘H—Hajime,’ he whimpers, ‘I—I can’t—’

‘You can. You _can_ , Tooru.’ Hajime shuffles closer and reaches up to cup Oikawa’s face, and finally, he _feels_ it, feels the warmth of his palm and the drag of his callouses and the overwhelming affection that radiates between them.

‘I love you so much, _precioso,_ ’ Hajime murmurs against his lips. ‘Keep me waiting, okay?’

Oikawa blinks blurry tears out of his eyes and drinks in the grey-flecked green of Hajime’s irises, desperate to remember them for even a millisecond longer.

‘ _Te amo, mi corazón_ ,’ he whispers back, closing his eyes to the feeling of chapped lips pressing into his forehead.

The warmth dissipates, and when he blinks again, the bed is empty.

* * *

‘ _Papá!_ ’

A sticky-fingered hand slaps onto Oikawa’s notes, leaving a questionable brown smear. He slides his gaze to the side, fixing the grumpy seven-year-old with a well-developed Dad Look.

‘Haley,’ he begins suspiciously, ‘did _tía_ give you another ice cream sandwich?’ He pauses to give her a chance to answer, though the smudge of chocolate on his daughter’s face is a bit of a giveaway.

‘No! You said I had to wait until after dinner.’ She twists her fingers together in front of her, and Oikawa’s patchwork heart melts. He laughs and pushes his chair back before standing and sweeping her into his arms.

‘You’re certainly your father’s daughter, _mi_ _ja_ _,_ ’ he teases and pinches her cheek. ‘He was never very good at lying to me, either.’

Her green eyes widen and she thrashes in his arms, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but here. Oikawa laughs again and pins her to his chest.

‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he proposes. ‘You eat your entire dinner without complaining, and I’ll make sure _tía_ comes to play volleyball with us after we do the dishes.’ He adjusts his grip on her and holds out his hand for her to shake. ‘Sound good?’

A gap-toothed smile splits over his daughter’s face and she grabs his hand, shaking it vigorously from side to side. ‘You’ll set for me?’

Oikawa pulls his hand out of her grip and taps her on the nose. ‘I would _never_ joke about volleyball, _mi c_ _orazón,_ ’ he says seriously. He lets her slip down to the floor and watches as she speeds over to the back door, barely pausing to shove her feet into her sandals before she morphs into a grinning, gap-toothed, bruised-kneed boy with a bug net and an outstretched palm.

He smiles and takes his daughter's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorryyyyyy guys. More lighthearted(ish) stuff in this series is coming, so stay tuned!


End file.
